


The Policies of War

by SwordDraconis113



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, No Dark One, The Enchanted Forest, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/SwordDraconis113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Regina is married, and six months after King Leopold dies from sickness, Snow White has ascended to the thrown, leaving her unprepared for the reality of ruling a kingdom. </p><p>With no Dark One existing, Regina is left to teach herself magic, as across the waters, a kingdom is being ravaged against trolls whom have begun taking over the land. A strike of luck gives them the perfect tool to fight against the trolls, and bring power to a land that is otherwise powerless, but using this tool creates a ripple effect that will lead to devastation.</p><p>With tensions brewing and with Snow White's kingdom right in the middle, it's only a matter of time before something breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Policies of War

**Author's Note:**

> As so far, there are no archive warnings, but this may change. I haven't quite yet worked out where this story is headed entirely, except for one romance. 
> 
> Important notes: The Dark One does not exist, but Cora still rose to marry Henry. She gained magic through her own means and _not_ through Rumplestiltskin. Maurice has offered Gaston's hand to Belle for an alliance against the troll war. Regina is not being taught magic by Rumple but she does have magic and is learning to use it, by herself. 
> 
> Regina is only been married a year, so I believe canonically she's nineteen as this point and still quite fragile and open. And I believe Snow White is fifteen canonically? So old enough to ascend to the throne, but under the supervision of Regina and advisors. Hopefully this will make sense as to why Regina is almost dark, but still very fragile.
> 
> Finally, I hope you enjoy!

****It was that time of day when Regina longed to have concealed wine in the sleeves of her dress. For the last hour, she’d stood tall, her expression polite and non-threatening and had been there as the queen dowager. So far, six peasants had stared at her as though she was evil incarnate, as if she had been one to pass on the disease that killed her husband.

Snow’s head was tilted at an angle, her young features pinched in puzzlement as the peasant finished speaking. Behind her, Regina stood to one side of the throne, an advisor on the other –– whom had begun looking worse for wear as the kingdom’s inhabitant’s arrived from all over to speak their concerns.

“What do you mean you’re starving?” Snow asked. She turned to her advisor, her brow knitted carefully. “Our own stocks are not depleted.”

“They are not, my queen.”

Regina fingers twitched beneath the laced sleeves she wore. “But the droughts, your highness, our flocks and herds are starving. We have little grass, and our hay stocks have not been replenished since three summers ago.”

“That can not be the case, our own gardens are lush and green.” Snow’s face turned to Regina. “Not all of the Kingdom is in a drought, is it?”

“No, but we are costal and more likely to receive rain. The eastern border villagers have been in a continuous drought. They’re nearby the mountains, where the –” 

“I am aware of where the eastern border villagers are.” Snow’s tone had been light, but the villager peasant looked up at Regina with scorn, as if she had dared to patronise the princess. By the gods, would it ever cease.

Snow had only ascended to the thrown six months prior, and most of that time had been filled with diplomatic meetings with other lands whom had looked at a new queen as an opportunity to pounce on. Regina admitted, once alone with herself, that Snow had handled them well enough. Still, even with her plate busy with dignitary meetings, she should have been aware of the kingdom’s affairs _before_ her father died.

Their kingdom was large and if handled correctly, could be most profitable. During war time, their control over particular provincial areas would hold them in a particular powerful position. Though their naval fleet was particularly weak in the last fifty or so years, leaving a weak opening that Snow optimistically said was “unimportant” as they were currently in a reign of peace for the last thirty-three years.

“Have the rivers stopped flowing?” Snow asked. The high windows were casting in light from the midday sun. The bright reflected off the red drapery upon the side walls and made Snow’s young face appear a bright shade of pink. Regina wondered if the young queen was aware.

“The eastern border relies on dams and lakes, if you recall,” the advisor whispered to Snow.

“Then couldn’t we just find some weather-witch to fix the drought?” Snow asked.

The peasant looked up, a smile brimming across his face. Regina fought the urge to grimace. “That would be very helpful!” 

Snow’s advisor spluttered beside her. The poor man’s face turning a colourful shade of red as he strangled to hold back how expensive that would be.

“That would be ill-advised,” Regina spoke for him. “The probabilities of something going wrong is far too high and would cause more devastation. There have been recorded events of previous weather witches causing lightning storms by accident. With a drought so severe, it would cause an out of control fire.” Then, hissing between her teeth so only Snow could hear, “Not to mention the expense of hiring a weather-witch to fix a drought, something that requires _months_ of work.”

“But if they’re _starving_.” Snow’s words were earnest and ill-advised. Regina swallowed, straightening her back as the peasant shifted on his feet. She had to be careful of her image.

“Perhaps,” Regina offered, “importing some hay from a nearby kingdom might be a safer solution. If we bring about a weather-witch, taxes will have to go up.” She looked to the peasant, raising her eyebrow.

His face glowered before turning to Snow. “Your highness, surely that isn’t necessary.”

“I don’t think so,” Snow said, “I say we get a weather-witch, it will be the best plan. Taxes won’t need to go up if we budget correctly.” Snow rose then. “I believe it is luncheon, is it not? Perhaps this young gentleman should be fed in our kitchens before he returns home to share the good news?”

The man beamed. Regina sighed, if word got out, this was going to cause problems in the future.

“Tell the others that I shall speak with them tomorrow,” she said to her guards, depending from the throne’s steps, to exit into the hall.

Beside her, her advisor began whispering insistently to Snow. Regina clasped her hands behind her back, walking behind them as Snow said loudly, “I don’t care about the money. We need to help the kingdom.”

“Of course,” the advisor bowed shortly and stood still, allowing Snow to pass as she headed towards gardens, where she’d be taking her lunch with her ladies in waiting. 

Regina grimaced, looking to the advisor. “How much do you estimate it will cost?” she asked.

“Sixty-thousand gold pieces, probably more depending how low the reserves are. Weather witches are only useful for a small area.”

“I am aware,” Regina bit, then held her tongue as he flinched, spluttering to apologise. Raising her hand, she silenced him. “I apologise for snapping, I’m afraid the whole affair has made me quite weary.”

“I’ll leave you be,” he bowed shortly, making to leave.

“Actually,” Regina stopped him, “If I could see with Master of Coin, it would be most helpful. I would like an overview of everything.”

The advisor smiled, his lips pulling to one side. “I could be most helpful with that, your highness.”

Regina felt taller from his words. Her time was coming soon.

 

* * *

 

Far over, in a southern kingdom belonging to its own island, Lord Maurice was brought down to the dungeons by his guardsmen. “What is it?” Only moments prior had he been disturbed from his dinner with Belle, and with Gaston and her engagement set, their time together was running out.

“We’re not sure,” the first guardsman, Jarli answered, leading with a torch in his hand. He was a tall man, with dark skin and darker hair. In the firelight, Jarli’s skin appeared a warm ochre red, though in truth, it was much darker. “One of the cooks had been placed down here, after attacking another servant.”

“And? Is she still down there?”

The steps appeared like black stones, glinting with the firelight. Behind Maurice, three more men walked, murmuring between themselves. It was an excessive amount of guard for one woman.

“That’s the problem, my lord, we’re not sure.” 

A low growl could be heard, before a cluttering of what sounded like a large force thrown against metal bars. Maurice stopped on the stairs, shivering in the cold dungeon. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Maurice swallowed, pulling his shoulders back. It sounded as if one of the trolls had appeared in his dungeon. Had his men captured one? Was the cook secretly a troll spy, disguised as a normal girl?

“Whom is this girl?”

“Eleanor, my lord. She’s been here six months. She was a commoner, but skills in the kitchen were adequate when our last cook died from pneumonia.”

Reaching the last of the steps, he was lead down the twisting hallways of the dungeons, meant to confuse the inhabitants of where they were. Jarli knew the walls better than any of his other men as he lead them all to the source of the strange noise.

As they moved closer, the sound grew into a roar of growls and snapping teeth as a jailer stood before the beast, pushing it back with a spear. 

“Stand aside,” Maurice commanded. The guardsmen stepped back and Jarli lead Maurice before the beast, six feet away from the cell’s cage.

The back six dungeon cells had been made to withhold trolls not long ago. Maurice watched as the beast threw its body against it, as strong as a fully grown troll, but not enough to tear the enchanted metal from its place.

It had four limbs and large, white teeth. It was a wolf in shape and form, with black fur and bright, grey eyes, reflecting red and gold from the firelight. But this beast was far larger than any other wolf he’d come across before. Though common wolves had only ever been brought to the island for sport, and did not naturally exist in the island’s ecosystem. 

To see such a monstrous sized one before him was awe-inspiring.

“I’ve heard of such things before,” Maurice spoke.

“Shapeshifter,” Jarli answered. “When the moon sinks, she’ll be the cook again. Will you have her executed then?”

The wolf stared at him, its lips pulled over the teeth in a low, threatening growl.

“No, I rather think it may be our saviour in this time of war.”

 

* * *

 

Regina did not dine with Snow. After speaking with the Master of Coin, she spoke with three other dignitaries before making her way to the parlour room, where one of the ladies in waiting had informed her that Snow was to be having tea and cake.

“Excuse me,” she said, entering the room. The three women turned to look at her, their expression puzzling at the stack she was holding. “If you would excuse us,” she said, looking to Snow. The two ladies in waiting rose from their chairs and politely left, giggling amongst themselves. Had Cora not been so ambitious, Regina may have become a lady in waiting to Snow, or another princess years ago. Drinking tea, talking about men, running the lower occupants of the household, how delightfully dull.

Sitting down, Regina laid out the two books and the three scrolls she had, upon the small wooden table. She moved the tea-cups the two ladies had, to one side of the table, and placed the small cakes onto the chair beside her.

“What’s all this?” Snow asked. “My lessons aren’t until tomorrow.“

“Think of it as an important extra lesson,” she said, opening the two books. “This is your expenses in the last month and _this_ is the same expense your father spent last year of this month.” She pointed at the two printed numbers. Snow swallowed, there was a large difference in coin.

“But –“

“ _This_ ,” Regina then spoke, opening up one of the books, “is about the general information on a weather-witch and how much land they can cover on average. I brought a map to show you how much land will need covering. I’ve also brought a statement of how much gold in taxes and revenue that land is worth.” 

“I don’t see –“

“And _this_ ,” she said, opening the last scroll, “is an old document stating the known weather-witches in allied kingdoms and their last-known going rate. As you can see here, there are very few who are willing or able to take on such a taxing amount of time. You will require at least four and will probably have to offer Midas something in return for borrowing his witch on top of previous expenses. I don’t think I need to explain that _gold_ would be worthless to him.”

“I don’t understand,” Snow said.

Regina rolled her eyes. “I’ll make it clearer. A weather-witch would leave us severely depleted of gold for a section of land that is hardly worth anything.”

“Are you telling me,” Snow said, her voice becoming higher, “that you think that these villages are worth _less_ just because of where they reside?” 

Regina’s mouth pressed together. That was half of what she was trying to say, but admitting that to Snow would lead to an entirely ridiculous argument. “Of course not,” she said instead. “What I’m trying to explain is that you need to look at other routes, as well as be aware of the politics in the matter.”

“What politics?”

Regina’s smile was tight, but enough to fool Snow. “You’re willing to spend sixty-thousand gold pieces to bring _water_ to a couple of villages. When word gets out, other parts of the kingdom will become quite upset that this wasn’t equally shared with them. They’ll demand that sixty-thousand gold pieces should be used to help their parts of the land, as well for whatever problems they may have.”

Snow stared at all the papers, “But I promised him.”

“Yes, and you’re going to have to work out what you’re going to do to rectify that. I’d suggest researching before making promises next time.”

Snow’s brow pinched, and then nodded. “You’re right.”

Regina blinked. “Is that so?”

Snow nodded. “I was quite a fool in the throne room today, speaking to the commoners. My advisor had to answer for me twice, _twice!_ I think it is time that I stepped up on my duties and became the queen this kingdom deserves.”

Regina offered a strained smile. “That seems like a step in the right direction.” She bowed her head, “I’ll leave you to it them.”

“Regina?” She stopped, looking back to the young queen, “Thank you. You’ve been a wonderful help.”

“Think nothing of it.” Regina turned away, clasping her hands before her as she walked out of the room, her fury brimming inside of her. Snow’s insistent optimism was trying at the best of times. Her chest seemed to burn as she walked through long corridors, past rows of previous monarchs and old family members.

Eva and Leopold resided in the throne room, to look down at Snow until such a time as she was able to sit for her own portrait. Regina was never offered to sit for a portrait.

Walking up two floors of stairs, she reached her chambers, dismissing the guards from outside her doors. In her room, she paced, then stood before her looking glass. There was nothing there. Sometimes, in the dark, she’d come to the looking glass and see if her mother was there, in the shadows. 

On the eve of her wedding, the looking glass had been a gift from a nearby kingdom. She’d thrown her mother through it in a fit of rage. Since then, magic had come to her with difficulty, though she found rage as-so-far the best tool to utilise it.

Her hand reached out, electricity sparking in the palm of her hand as she waved it over the looking glass. Smoke filled the mirror and dispersed, revealing a room. The room was old, a layer of dust had covered the stripped bed. Cloth had been draped over the furniture and the vision of the room was yellowed. 

A figure stood in the centre of the room, with dark hair and a burgundy dress. Her head tipped curiously, turning to the mirror and Regina gasped, flinging up her hand to cast the vision away, sealing the portal.

Had the person seen her?


End file.
